


A Mother's Turmoil

by NoodleRonpa



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Antenatal Depression, Christa centric, Depression, F/M, Gen, Guilt, I wrote this when I was 15, I wrote this when season 2 first came out so this is like 5 years old lol, Lee is referenced, Minor Character Death, One Shot, Postpartum Depression, Prenatal Depression, just a look into christa's psyche as interpreted by a young me, never posted it UNTIL NOW, so I took some bits out and made the ending a tad more hopeful, takes place around season 2, this was initially darker and more depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15773502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoodleRonpa/pseuds/NoodleRonpa
Summary: A good mother must love their children unconditionally. But Christa isn't sure she's up to the task anymore.





	A Mother's Turmoil

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this 5 years ago when I was like 15. Decided to post it now because why not? Also wanna get past the nerves of putting anything up and it's easier to do with something I wrote years ago. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Even though this is not an entirely happy work.

When Christa first tells Omid about the baby they are stuck in a preschool centre and she half expects Omid to jest at the appropriate location for such a topic. Even with the undead clawing at the entrance she expects a light-hearted smirk to grace his face despite everything, because even when shit goes haywire Omid somehow finds a way to be almost annoyingly optimistic. None of this happens though, instead Omid looks at her as though she’s just suggested running back outside and punching their way through the growing pack of walkers. He makes a noise of distress and starts desperately looking for a way out. Maybe this location wasn’t quite so perfect after all.

 

 

After they climb out through a window and take refuge in a desolate house, Omid is cleaning the wound on Christas’ hand that had slid against the edge of broken glass when he decides to bring up the one thing keeping him from doing a half decent job at bandaging her hand. Christa snatches the cloth he’s using out of his hands and does it herself when Omid begins babbling.

“So about the baby…I think it’d be pretty sick to have a kid. And by sick I mean good! I want to have a baby with you because…they’re going to be an awesome kid and all, you know? Sorry I mean like, I’m fine with the idea and it’s totally cool with me but ultimately it’s up to you. What we do with it. Your choice, completely your decision. If you don’t want it that’s okay. Super okay actually, seriously fine.”

When he finally shuts his mouth Christa wants to roll her eyes but instead opts for pulling him into an embrace and kissing his forehead. She can feel him sighing into her chest and mumbling again. She finds the way he talks so much oddly endearing but silently prays their baby isn’t as much of a talker as its father.

 

 

When Christa watches the video of Anna begging for her child’s life she cries because she suddenly sees herself as selfish. They want to have the child and Omid keeps going on about creating a portable nursery on wheels perfect for evading walkers, complete with a battering ram attached to the front. Christa always smiles at his ideas because if the dead are up and moving then who is to say this crazy idea of Omid’s isn’t possible? She knows they’re both being ridiculous but she couldn’t really find it in herself to care.

After the video she finds herself seeing things through a new set of eyes. They should be more serious about the baby, they should have talked about all their options thoroughly. How could she bring a child into this? This good for nothing world they now lived in? Where babies were nothing more than mere liabilities. She starts to think that perhaps this is true, and that it’s all pointless. That a baby will hold everyone back, that it will starve or freeze, cry too loud and draw walkers to them, suck up their resources. Lee’s group is already riddled with problems, she could assume that much. If they knew she was pregnant a whole new can of worms would open up. Surviving with just the two of them like they had been? Christa knew Omid wouldn’t let that happen.

She knows that Omid would tell her that a baby is a sign of hope and new beginnings. A purpose, something to drive their every move. She can hold onto these beliefs for the time being.

 

 

The time spent with just Omid and Clementine makes Christa feel optimistic again. She sees that families can still function and joke around. She notices Omid telling Clementine about different plant species and realises that even without finishing the first grade of school Clementine will still grow to be intelligent. That Clementine will grow in the first place. That she will still have dreams even if they are different from what they once were. When Clementine smiles shyly when she shows them a particular plant of interest Christa can feel her chest swelling. With her old group gone, Clementine doesn’t smile as much, but when she does it reminds her of the baby she has still growing within. Of how excited Clem is, and of Omid’s childlike joy when he first felt the kicks.

 

 

Christa’s child came too soon. She can’t be sure but it was at least a few weeks early. It had been just her and Clementine in a dark shed, Christa lying on the layer of dust looking around wildly between Clem, the door, cobwebs, and back to Clem. The little girl had seen her fair share of horrors but Christa wasn’t sure how she’d react to this. The birth had been painful of course, even more so because with each contraction Christa thought about Omid. How he wasn’t there and how the pain in his chest when he was shot couldn’t have possibly compared to this heartbreak that she felt now. She thought about how it was Clementine’s fault, this little girl standing over her whimpering in fear throughout the whole ordeal, it was her fault.

The baby didn’t move. Christa realised that it hadn’t for a little while, she’d barely even noticed in her grief. She wanted to scratch and claw at her skin for not fucking noticing. The child Omid had loved until his dying gasps for air was an unmoving corpse and she knew what came next. They both knew.

Christa stood slowly, cleaned herself up and then carted the child outside. Left it in the rain to turn. She came back in and told Clementine to sleep. Clementine said nothing, did nothing. Christa slowly registered the young girl’s vomit in a corner, when had she even thrown up? That night neither of them slept despite their exhaustion.

 

 

Christa hates herself for how she treats Clementine. After the night in the shed the two never spoke of the baby again. Clementine seemed to want to, and Christa knew she should explain what happened in order for the girl to cope and understand it. But instead Christa isolated herself and evidently Clementine. They didn’t have anyone but each other yet Christa cut the poor girl off. Maybe it was because it was Clementine’s fault that Omid died, or maybe she was just a bad mother.

She catches herself guilt tripping the younger girl. When Clementine doesn’t know how to do something she tells her she needs to learn if she wants to live which only serves to make the young girl feel incompetent and impatient. Christa see’s it in her frustrated eyes _‘well why won’t you teach me then Christa?’_ A glare from the younger girl that speaks volumes that Christa promptly ignores every time it appears.

She doesn’t know why she can’t feel more motherly towards her, she tries to seem more like a parent. More like Lee, but she can’t. She thinks her motherly traits decompose at the same rate as her child. When Clementine had a common cold Christa didn’t do much to comfort her, she gave her blankets but never wrapped her up. She gave her medicine but never anything to wash it down with, didn’t rub her back when she coughed.

She wants nothing more than to do these things without it feeling alien to her. She wishes she could stop projecting her negative emotions onto Clementine. She knows Clementine didn’t cause this on purpose, she knows she’s just dragging Clem down. But Christa can’t seem to forgive Clementine or herself for that matter.

The worst part is when Clementine tells her that she misses Lee or Omid. Christa grits her teeth and seethes bitterly. Although understanding of how Clementine feels, she is furious because she isn’t enough. Christa’s about as soothing as dry ice on skin. She’s no Lee or Omid, she’s not funny or nurturing.

If Lee were with her he’d wrap her up in warm blankets and wipe her nose, pat her back, give her something to wash away the medicine. He’d praise her small feats and help her grieve, he’d offer wise guidance in the darkest days. Omid would cheer her up with jokes and embarrassing stories from his middle school experiences, he’d be a best friend, sidekick and protective father at the same time. Lee and Omid could help her learn and grow. Omid would show her new plants and birds, Lee could’ve taught her how to read elaborate books. Christa just stayed cold and stagnant. Opting to do things alone and then expecting Clementine to know what to do when faced with similar scenarios. There’s been occasions where she has left Clementine alone at their makeshift camps and when she returns to see Clementine peeking down at a drawing of Kenny’s family wistfully with a sorrowful grimace, she wants to tear her hair out by the roots, sickened by her own guilt.

As Christa stokes the fire in their small camp, she looks over at Clementine who is drawing with the tip of her shoe in the dirt. When Clementine catches her eye, she smiles and Christa forces herself to return the gesture. It’s a start, even if it’s forced for now. Even if it hurts.

She knows she has to try, she has to pretend she’s okay because Clementine wants them to be like a happy family. But the last thing Christa wants is to be reminded of the one she has lost.

 


End file.
